Hollow Wien
by Blinded Ryter
Summary: Ryan Ross moves to Hollow-Wien, a town in Wales that soon proves to be a nightmare in Wonderland. Hunted by the Glas-Court and persecuted by the Erasures, can Ryan save Hollow-Wien before Alice erodes him, and oblierates mankind? Rydon. Slash.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Alice in Wonderland or any band members mentioned, but the plot, concepts, and characters concepts are 100% mine.

**Hollow-Wien  
**_By Blinded Ryter  
_  
"Act I"

Though the forecasts claimed 99.9% radiant sunshine for this entire week, when the small black cab entered the town of Hollow-Wien, Wales, the sky stretching above like an uncharted ocean hung heavily with morbid grey clouds. In spite of how morose the sky appeared to be, there was an odd and eerie sense that made the air not smell of rain, but of death and dread. The entire atmosphere of this strange town was cold and biting.

The dying trees lining up both side of the road towards the heart of the town only had peeling grey barks, and instead of revealing a shade of light ivory, ugly and abnormal hues of maroon were exposed as if blood was dried upon the rough surfaces. Although, it was towards only the end of summer where the leaves were not even supposed to turn the lightest hint of yellow yet, the trees all bore bare branches that reached towards the Heavens like crooked claws.

There were no squirrels or birds scampering and flying about anywhere. There was no clear water flowing through the banks, but a black sludge that churned along slowly. Whatever flowers present in the barren fields were wilted, its heavy heads bearing only black and grey dry petals.

The trees were dead, the grass was dead, the stream was dead, the sky was dead...everything was dead.

A sickening feeling churned in the pit of Ryan Ross' guts as fear wavered in his wide doe brown eyes. The boy's breath hitched when one particular dark fluff of a cloud above darkened in certain areas, so that the shadows created mocking eyes, and lips pulling back into a sneer. Was it his imagination, or did the eyes blink? Ryan quickly rubbed is eyes, then stared in bewilderment at the sky again only to see a very normal looking cloud.

Second by second, the poor boy's face was losing color, and his blood was running colder. Ryan sank down lower into his seat as he clutched the single suitcase close to his chest in a desperate manner. From his peripheral vision and the corners of his eyes, Ryan could see the trees outstretching their talons towards him, the twigs flexing nails, the bark shedding dry blood. The clouds were sneering, the wilted flowers were cackling, the blades of grass were giggling, and he could almost hear the cacophonous noise of dead souls' shrieks and laughter. Ryan closed his eyes shut as anxiety and fear contorted his face.

This was like a nightmare, a twisted Wonderland, he couldn't escape, but it was only the reality he now had to face.

What was truly only minutes, but felt like hours finally past, and the car jerked to an abrupt halt. Ryan's eyes fluttered open in surprise as the rubber tires squealed against the paved road, and his body lurched forward due to the sudden repelling force. He let out a strangled yelp when the seatbelt dug into his shoulder, and the breath escaped his body. Ryan even hit his forehead against the front seat. Now, he was going to have a bump on his forehead, and a nasty bruise on his shoulder.

Oh, how _marvelous._

"You okay, son?" asked the driver as he readjusted the rear mirror.

"Y-yes, sir," Ryan stammered as he sat upright, and picked up his suitcase off the floor.

There was an awkward silence until the driver informed Ryan that this was his final destination. Ryan swallowed hard before turning his head to gaze out the window, and see a colossal school...no, castle, a fucking palace, of the Victorian Gothic design looming over the tiny car like a monster about to swallow them whole. The Conte de Fee Academy was like a masterpiece done by a horror and macabre artist. The windows appeared to be like empty sockets, the curves of the frames were like teeth, and the painted glass were like tinkling hues of knavish opticals. The overall shade of the buildings was just as morbid grey as the sky looming above ominously.

Ryan was simply petrified for a second before he gripped the door handle, took a deep breath, then opened the car door. He gave the driver a thank-you with a smile, but the grin faltered when Ryan saw the driver's reflection in the mirror where he had abnormally vermilion hued eyes, and a wicked smile that turned Jack the Ripper's face inside out.

Without having any dignity to begin with, the boy screamed. Ryan practically fell out of the door, slammed the door shut, and scrambled onto his feet, so he could run towards the school.

Ryan didn't get very far when he came to a halt before the tall iron gates painted black. He stood dumbly there fore a moment, and "hesitant" was too weak of a word. Mumbling incoherently to himself, he looked around until he finally found an intercom-looking device set upon the right column. The boy walked over to it, but his pace slowed when he saw that instead of a button, there was a small hole with what appeared like teeth lining the inner edges. Sheer horror was stricken on Ryan's face. Was he...supposed to put his finger into that?

Apparently, he was. A small plaque beneath the teeth-hole read, _"INSERT FINGER."_

Ryan frowned and let out a sigh of defeat before raising his free hand that shook terribly. As slowly as possible and with prayers to God, Ryan slid his index finger into the hole, and-

_"Fuck!"_ Ryan screamed when the teeth-like wedges actually bit down on his skin.

Though it was really nothing more than a prick, Ryan's unstable mind exacerbated the entire ordeal. He quickly withdrew his hand, took several steps back, then lowered his gaze to his finger. The damned thing actually broke his skin, and drew blood!

_"George Ryan Ross III,"_ the small hole began saying as it moved like a grotesque mouth, thus only increasing Ryan's horror. _"Male, fifteen, year three student, new status. Please enter through the gates, and step onto stone A-4."_

Rendered speechless, Ryan stood there for a full thirty seconds before the faze disappeared when the iron gates began to swing open slowly on their own. Ryan cringed at the awful screeching noise, as if someone was dragging a piece of crude chalk down a board. When the gates were fully open, Ryan hesitated once more before walking towards it. He past the gates, and once he was a considerable distance away from the entrance, the gates abruptly swung shut, so that a clamor rang through the air. Ryan let out a startled cry, and clutched his suitcase closer to his chest as his breathing turned erratic.

"T-this is the worst..." Ryan muttered his trademark phrase under his breath.

Slowly, the boy turned around, and had to tilt his head up to get full view of the Conte de Fee Academy, and suddenly, Ryan felt as if he was an insignificant ant staring into the eyes of Almighty. The boy sighed heavily once more before lowering his gaze, and searching for square A4, whatever the Hell that could be.

The courtyard before him, as vast and wide as an ocean, was formatted in a replica of a large chess board with light grey granite and ebony marble squares. Life-sized chess pieces carved with delicate and intricate detail stood on opposite sides, one end porcelain white, the other end glossy black. Rather than the common figure heads, such as the cross-crown being the King, and a tower being the rook, the chess pieces were represented by people, and it appeared as if God could breathe life into them any moment. Their eyes were scintillated, their lips were parted in smirks or pulled back in sneers, their carved locks appeared to be like silk, and each detail of their armor and clothes were painstakingly created. Rather than being awed, Ryan was scared; these chess pieces appeared to be too real for his taste.

"You're losing it, Ryan," the boy told himself in a whisper with his brows knitted into a scowl.

_'It's him!'_

Ryan blinked at the airy, high-pitched voice. He swirled around, then once more in the opposite direction, but saw no one.

_'Ridiculous. You must not be quite the full shilling today.'_

_'But he has no Lineage, or I do so believe.'_

Ryan swallowed hard. He could hear voices, but could see no one.

_'Then how could he have gotten into Hallow-Wien?'_

_'Exactly! Alice does not have a Linage.'_

_'Oh, don't be absurd! Alice would not be such a cowardly child_!'

"Who are you calling a coward?" Ryan exclaimed, though his voice shook.

Ryan kept turning his head as he searched for the speakers, but found that he was only alone.

First sneering clouds, a driver with abnormal eyes, a biting door bell, and now invisible voices?

"This is the worst," Ryan repeated once more.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Ryan glanced around. There was not a single soul outside to aide Ryan, and this deterred Ryan even more. He rubbed his arm absently as he turned his attention back to the chess board. Did A-4 correlate with the chess grids?

Ryan counted out loud as he drew closer to the designated square, his tattered converses shuffling across the marble surface as one arm held the suitcase close to his chest, and the other hand played with one end of a string from his hoodie.

"A-6...A-5...A-4," Ryan stated when he came to a halt.

Ryan blinked, as if expecting something to occur. Just as Ryan exhaled a frustrated sigh, his breath hitched when the ground split apart below him. A shaft of faint teal light shot up from A-4 as the black tile vanished. For a moment, Ryan was suspended in midair, his brown locks and clothes floating, until the light abruptly shut off. Without warning, Ryan didn't fall, but he was shoved downwards by the hands of gravity, and into a black abyss below. Ryan let out a silent scream as his vision, his entire being, was swallowed by darkness.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't do anything.

Was he dying?

Or was he already dead to begin with?

Cold tendrils hovered above Ryan's (unbeating?) heart as fear gripped the boy into a petrified state, and if he could, Ryan would have cried.

_'I don't want to die!'_ Ryan screamed in his mind in one last prayer._ 'Not yet! Not until I meet them! Not yet!'_

As if Ryan was drowning, the boy gasped when his head broke through the ocean's surface, and light streamed back. He was momentarily blinded until everything cleared out, and he could see clearly again. The boy found himself sitting in a great brown leather chair with his hair disheveled, his suitcase close to his chest, and his breathing coming out in short shallow gasps. Like a frightened rabbit, Ryan twitched as he looked around. He was in an ordinary office, but Ryan felt as if something horrible would occur the next moment.

"What…" Ryan's voice trailed off when he glanced down, and saw that his clothes changed.

Earlier today, Ryan wore the best clothes he formerly owned at the orphanage. A pair of faded jeans with two tears, a hand-me-down white dress shirt with a knitted short-sleeved shirt over it, his nearly threadbare black hoodie, and a pair of converses he had ever since he could remember.

But now, Ryan Ross was dressed in a black and crimson uniform. He wore crisp black slacks that matched the shade of his long-sleeved button down shirt with equally crisp collars, where a scarlet tie was done tightly. The boy could even see his reflection in the polished shoes that glistened under the light.

There was a crest, the school emblem he supposed, embroidered beautifully onto his left chest. The four quadrants consisted of a wolf, a bat, a raven, and a cat. On one side of the crest was a black bat-like wing, the other side a white dove's wing. Demon and angel, perhaps? Like bones crossing behind a pirate's skull, there were two slender brooms where the vines of a blossomed rose wrapped around.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at the peculiar crest. What in the world could all of those symbols stand for?

"George Ryan Ross III?" an elderly voice addressed from the front.

"Y-yes, ma'am!" Ryan chimed as he raised his head quickly.

A woman at the front desk gave a small smile as she gestured for Ryan to come forward. Ryan nodded as he obliged, and rose from the chair to approach the front desk. There was a small name stand set upon the counter that read "Miss Dieter", and the name belonged to an old woman that had the air of a kind grandmother.

"Are you new here, Mister Ross?" asked the front desk lady.

Ryan gave a nod.

"Yes, ma'am."

"My name is Miss Dieter," she introduced with a smile that could either be warm like that of the elderly woman that tended to her garden daily, or sinister as a wolf in sheepskin. "Welcome to Conte de Fee Academy, and the town Hallow-Wien. I have your schedule and dorm key here," she said as she handed Ryan a piece of paper, and an English brass key hanging on a leather throng. "You can give me your suitcase; you'll find it in your room later. Oh, and this is your Knapsack where the material you need are inside. Your professors will assign your textbooks for you during class."

Ryan gave a word of thank-you as he traded his suitcase for the three items. The boy slung the knapsack, a simple black messenger bag with the crest emblem stitched on one corner, and his full name embroidered in gold across the flap, over his shoulder, so that it rest comfortably. Ryan wore the throng around his neck, and hid the key beneath his shirt.

"Classes have already begun, so it's..." Miss Dieter glanced at her computer screen, "it's only first class, actually, and you have World History. The Social Studies corridor is near here. Just go straight down this hall outside, take two lefts, then a right."

Ryan smiled in his natural crooked smile, and though the boy was oblivious to it, Miss Dieter's eyebrows raised slightly as a sense of déjà vu washed over her, as if she had seen Ryan, or someone awfully similar to Ryan before...before as in years ago.

"Thank-you, ma'am," Ryan said politely, a nostalgic warmth sparking in his eyes. "Have a nice day!"

Miss Dieter blinked until the blank expression left her face, and she returned the boy's smile with one of her own.

"You too, Mister Ross," she called back as Ryan disappeared.

Ryan gave a small wave before leaving the office, but once he was outside in the hall, the smile faltered when a sense of disorientation fell upon him. Ryan fiddled absently with his red tie as he looked around before attempting to follow the directions Miss Dieter gave him. Meanwhile, Ryan stared in awe at the interior. The corridors were high with beautiful arcs, and light poured through the windows in fragmented rays that created interesting shadows on the floor. As Ryan stepped pass each ray of light, he felt as if he was in a fairy tale land of delirium.

So, far, this odd town Hallow-Wien, which he couldn't find on the Wales map no matter how many times he looked, was proving to be strange. Eerie. Frightening. Ryan was always born as a child with a weak heart, and easily prone to becoming scared more than half to death, but he had been accepted by this supposedly-prestigious school with free tuition, free everything. Ryan's dream was to attend an excellent school, step out into the big world as a novelist, and publish literature with dedications to his parents...parents he never met, could never remember; he didn't even know their names. Perhaps one day, they would pick up one of his books, recognize Ryan's name, and reach out for their son.

That was Ryan's true dream: to be held in his parents' arms. All he wanted was to be loved. To be wanted. To be needed.

So, just because Ryan was afraid, he wasn't going to give up. He was going to survive...somehow.

Eventually, Ryan found room C-214. The boy glanced through the window, and could see that class was already in session. He hesitated, stalled by checking his schedule several times, hesitated once more, then finally opened the door, and strode inside.

The lecture came to a halt, and Ryan instantly felt guilty for interrupting the professor, hence the onslaught of apologies said at the speed of light. Girls giggled and whispered about how "adorable" the new kid was, the boys were simply amused and/or adding this punk onto the Pansy List, and the professor was just entertained.

"Woah, breathe," said the professor with a smile. "Now, what are you here for?"

"I-I-I'm n-new…" Ryan stammered, and cursed that ghastly habit of stuttering. "M-my name is Ry…Ryan Ross, sir."

"Nice to meet you, Mister Ross," replied the professor. "My name is Michael Dirnt, but you're going to call me Mike, and that's a demand. If you don't, I'll cut your tongue off."

Ryan stared blankly for a moment; Mike sounded quite serious.

Mike diverted his attention to the class for a moment.

"Now, class, what kind of example was that?"

"Hammurabi's Code!" several students exclaimed.

"Exacta!" Mike replied enthusiastically, then turned back to the Ryan who was still pale. "Well, now, Mister Ross, what Lineage are you from?"

Ryan blinked as he stared at Mike in puzzlement.

"I'm not quite sure I know what that is..." the boy answered truthfully as he shuffled his feet.

A harsh and heavy silence fell upon the room instantly. All smiles faded away, all whispering gossip ceased, and all amusement vanished in a blink of an eye. Everyone was staring at Ryan in a manner he could not fathom.

"It's not on your schedule?" Mike asked slowly in what appeared like chary.

Ryan glanced at his paper, shook his head, then handed the schedule over for Mike to see with his own eyes. A moment of observation past before something flickered in Mike's intense hazel eyes. A grave expression flitted across his face for a second before his usual ecstatic face returned, but Ryan had a quick and sharp eye; he caught the uncertain suspicion.

"Perhaps there was a misprint," Mike said casually with a shrug as he returned the schedule. "You can go talk to one of the Deans after class," he added before handing Ryan an assigned textbook. "You can take the empty seat by the window."

"Yes, sir," said Ryan, then turned to find his seat.

Transferring schools was a common routine for Ryan, and he was somewhat adapted to being the new kid, but this time, he felt as if he was a prey, an enemy. Every single pair of eyes in the room was leering at him as if they were trying to burn a hole through Ryan's soul. Ryan swallowed hard as he walked down the aisle, and took his seat. As Mike resumed the lecture about the Neolithic Revolution, he opened his Knapsack, and pulled out a provided pen and blank spiral. He turned to the set page in the textbook, and paid close attention like the studious student he was.

"So, basically, Hammurabi's Code was eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth thing," Mike explained as he waved his arms around dramatically. "If you stole something, they chopped off your hands. If you bit someone, they chopped off your tongue. And, well, if you inappropriately violated a woman, then they would..." Mike clicked his tongue as he paused for emphasis. "Well, let's just say making babies would be quite difficult afterwards."

A round of "Ews" and laughter erupted from the class. Ryan even chuckled quietly at this professor's teaching. He saw that Mike knew his facts well, had excellent teaching skills, but also made it interesting by adding his own twist. It was odd to have such a young teacher at a prestigious school, though; Mike Dirnt could how be no older than in his mid- or late-twenties, and he sure acted like a kid at heart.

Just when Ryan was beginning to learn about the Persians, a crudely folded piece of paper landed upon his spiral. Ryan briefly glanced from the direction it came, and saw a brown-haired boy with vivid green eyes sitting to his left. The boy kept his gaze ahead with his chin in his hand, but it was implicit that he sent the note. Ryan, as usual, hesitated before pulling the note into his lap, and unfolding the paper slowly as he kept a chary eye upon Mike, who was now decorating the chalk board with battle scenes of stick-figure Assyrians wielding swords.

_'How could you **not** know what your Lineage is?'_

Ryan frowned. He was expecting some sort of casual greeting, or even a taunting remark, but not this. Why was everyone so curious, so up-tight about this "Lineage"?

Sighing inwardly, Ryan wrote a reply.

_'I'm sorry, but I don't even know what Lineage means. Are you talking about my heritage? Well, all I know is that I'm supposedly English_.'

Ryan folded the note, and returned it. The other boy skimmed the note, glanced at Ryan skeptically, then tossed it over his shoulder to the brunette boy with blue eyes behind him. The boy raised an eyebrow before passing it on to his right, the boy sitting behind Ryan. Ryan paused before glancing over his shoulder to see a dark-haired boy reading the paper. The boy stalled for a moment before raising his dark brown eyes to meet Ryan's lighter ones.

Something odd, something inhuman made flecks of gold to flicker in those dark pools for a fraction of a second. Ryan gasped and recoiled initially at shock, then swallowed hard when he saw that this boy appeared as if he wanted to kill Ryan. The boy's lips pressed into a thin and firm line as he crushed the paper mercilessly in his hand until his entire fist clenched it. The boy kept his hand closed tightly for a second, then opened his palm to reveal...nothing.

The paper wad was gone.

Ryan's blood ran cold.

He just knew, in that moment, that Hallow-Wien was not your average town with a normal school with typical children.

No, this...

This place was a nightmare, and he was in a school full of demons.

Ryan broke out of the trauma when the bell rang. He watched the dark-haired boy gather his things, and converse with the other two boys. Ryan blinked before deciding to gather his own belongings, shoving them into his Knapsack. His mind was racing as he tried to comprehend what could have happened to the paper wad, but his train of thought abruptly came to a halt when someone grasped his tie, pulled him around, and shoved him back with brute force. The desk skidded back until it hit the wall, and Ryan hissed in pain as the edge of the desk bit harshly into his backside, but the pain was forgotten when he stared into the eyes of his attacker.

"You," was the only thing the dark-haired boy said.

Ryan lost his voice.

The taller (and stronger) boy glared daggers Ryan, and pushed him farther. Ryan let out a strangled noise, then searched for help. Apparently, Mike was out on an errand, the rest of the class was apathetic, and the two other boys were in the know, but simply observers.

Ryan was on his own.

"Why..." the boy growled with sheer odium dripping off ever gritted syllable, and fierce gold swirled in his dark pools. "Why did it have to be _you?_"

Then, the boy threw Ryan onto the floor with one swift and effortless movement. Just before Ryan collapsed onto the ground, one of the other boy's caught him in their arms. Shaking and gasping, Ryan clung onto the boy's shirt as he turned his head to see the taller boy increase the intensity of his glare for a fraction of a second before turning on his heel, and stalking out of the room.

What...what happened? Why did that boy treat Ryan with such hatred? Such venom? What could Ryan have possibly done?

Ryan blinked dumbly until he realized that scalding tears was trickling down his face.

He was scared.

Oh so scared.

Ryan covered his face with his hands, and choked back a sob.

He was living a nightmare, and he couldn't wake up.

* * *

**Blinded Ryter:** Once again, another fave from my Mibba account. This story is testing just how far my imagination can go with an AU tale. I have an unhealthy fetish with fairy tales (with a morbid twist), especially Alice in Wonderland, so this is my shot at it (:

Thank-you for reading!  
Feedback is greatly appreciated :D


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